


Can't Stop a Bullet

by ravenclawkohai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclawkohai/pseuds/ravenclawkohai
Summary: Cloud and Sephiroth go to the final fight, only it goes nothing like what Cloud expected.Not quite puppet!Cloud but hints at it





	Can't Stop a Bullet

               Something had been off about this fight from the start. There was a strange gravitas, an unprecedented seriousness, that was true, but it wasn’t the truly bizarre part. Sephiroth couldn’t decide how to behave, and admittedly, Cloud could only recognize that from his various shades of dead-pan from practice, but the longer they fought, the more certain he was that it was there. They never stopped fighting, trapped in this otherworldly blackness, Sephiroth having shed his coat to move more freely, to be intimidating in his certainty he would come to no harm. The battle never faltered, but every now and then, a look of utter confusion, of reluctance stole over the general’s face.

               Cloud was relatively sure that Sephiroth only kept fighting in those moments because _Cloud_ continued fighting, and battle had long since become a muscle memory for him. The longer their blades crashed together, the more frequent those looks became. The ego, the mania always returned, but as they went, the confusion turned to startled disapproval, the reluctance increasing tenfold.

It was the last thing Cloud expected, but eventually, Sephiroth just stopped.

Their blades were pressed together, one matching the other in strength, refusing to give—except then Sephiroth _was_ giving, and Cloud stumbled in his surprise, as the resistance Masamune put against the Buster Sword disappeared. It was only thanks to Sephiroth’s training and reflexes that Cloud didn’t just cleave him in two.

Recovering from his stumble, Cloud brought his blade back up to a ready position, watching closely, ready to reconvene their fight at Sephiroth’s first twitch.

All his weight shifted forward, but his leap froze before he left the ground.

Sephiroth raised Masamune. He tossed it to the side, where it skittered across the ground.

Cloud’s eyes followed the blade until it came to a stop, when he looked back at Sephiroth with shock.

Sephiroth began to walk toward him, and though he did his absolute best, he just couldn’t read what was written on the man’s face. Cloud held his ready position, unsure of what to do, of what Sephiroth was planning, until Sephiroth reached out for the Buster Sword. His grip tightened in case Sephiroth planned to try and take the blade from him, despite the fact that trying to do so by gripping the blade would be a mistake the man would never make.

In fact, he didn’t grab the blade at all. He pushed it gently with two fingers, adjusting Cloud’s position, until the tip of the blade hovered over his heart. His eyes were still trained on the blade as he slid his fingertips down to the sharp edge at the bottom, tilting it so the blade would dig into his sternum and abdomen.

Satisfied with his work, Sephiroth looked up at him, and whispered, “Do it.”

Cloud had never felt so confused in his life.

Those two different expressions, what seemed like two different Sephiroths, met in the middle, clashing yet meshing. The confusion had turned into conviction, the reluctance into guilt, and the sight stole Cloud’s breath away. This, _this_ was the Sephiroth he had known at Shinra. This was the man he thought he lost, the man he loved more than anything else in the world. It had been so many _years_ since he saw _his_ Sephiroth, and the strange new version, a stranger in his lover’s skin, had torn him to shreds just by existing. Jenova’s son, the heir to the Calamity, made a mockery of the man he once knew, and every time they had crossed blades, he had felt a little more of himself wither away and die.

And now there he was, right in front of him, and suddenly it was so obvious that he had been there the whole time. He was never lost, only hidden, buried deep by Jenova and mako, trapped in his own skin. Something inside Cloud wrenched and he couldn’t regain the breath he had lost. He had struggled enough fighting this faux-Sephiroth, how much had the man himself struggled, watching what he couldn’t change and blaming himself for it all the while?

But that reunion pulled and pulled on him, circling back around to Reunion. His Sephiroth was there, but the other remained as well. He knew from the way he smirked, even if it was at odds with what was in his eyes. It was in the set of his shoulders, the tall, unbending line of his back, and the air of easy confidence that clung to him like fog.

It would be an understatement to say that Cloud didn’t know what to do.

When he didn’t move, Sephiroth repeated, “Do it.” Only this time it came with that overwhelming pressure on his mind, the force of Sephiroth’s will smothering his. It was the feeling he remembered from right before he passed the Black Materia to him.

He didn’t understand _why_ the other Sephiroth was trying to make him do this. Would the death of the body they shared free him to become something else? Did he have to shed his skin before he could sail Meteor into the cosmos?

Cloud couldn’t help the way his blade’s tip dug into Sephiroth’s chest, though he fought the command as well as he could.

For one second, Jenova’s son disappeared, and it was his lover who begged in a whisper, “ _Please_.”

Then that familiar smirk reappeared, growing into a sneer, something malicious forming in his eye, the look of a boy pulling the wings off a butterfly, and suddenly he understood.

Sephiroth wanted death to prevent things from getting worse, to stop the stranger in his skin, and because of the impossible guilt he felt.

His other only let Cloud see this to weaken him, a low blow to win, a slow torture. They were only allowed to reconnect because it made both Cloud and Sephiroth that much more miserable.

He panicked. There was no good resolution to this. Sephiroth wanted a mercy-killing, the Calamity wanted pain and had the overwhelming confidence to believe that he would come out on top, no matter what.

Nausea turned his stomach and his head began to swim. The other’s will pressed close, pressed hard in Cloud’s head, and he acted before he realized what he was doing.

He dropped his sword.

He didn’t know when the tears started to form, but his vision was swimming when he looked up at Sephiroth and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

And that had been the point, the entire time. It was the only way Sephiroth was guaranteed to walk out of his fight, something Jenova’s son had known but Cloud could never have guessed.

Even with the force of the other’s smothering will on his own, even with Sephiroth’s plea, with the entire world riding on this outcome, he just couldn’t do it, not when the man he loved was in there somewhere.

All the strength drained from his body and he sunk to his knees, the Buster Sword clattering next to him. His head bowed, his hands making helpless fists on top of his knees as his weight shifted back. He could see tiny stains from his tears on the fabric of his pants, but he could do nothing to stop them.

He could do nothing to stop him.

He hadn’t expected Sephiroth to slide one hand along his jaw, cupping his cheek and forcing eye contact. All trace of the man he loved was gone, leaving only smug sadism.

“You look so much better this way, broken and on your knees,” Sephiroth cooed, trailing his hair up to thread his fingers into Cloud’s hair.

His blue eyes fluttered shut, his brows bunching, heartache writ large on his face. The tenderness of the gesture was sure to undo him. Sephiroth brushed a finger below his eye, and he knew he was supposed to open his eyes again, but maybe if he didn’t see, if he didn’t look, everything would go away.

Not looking meant he didn’t see Sephiroth drop to one knee in front of him, or see him lean in. But he certainly felt it when he pressed their lips together, the gesture impossibly gentle, and somehow, that was so much worse. Cloud pulled in a desperate breath around the hitch in his chest, but still didn’t open his eyes.

When Sephiroth spoke again, his breath fanned between their faces, their lips brushing with every syllable.

“You always have been, and always will be, mine. Do you understand that now?” he whispered, and every part of Cloud wanted to deny it, but it was a simple truth, and they both knew it.

Sephiroth tangled his fingers tighter in Cloud’s hair, his other hand coming up to cup his face again, thumb brushing gently over his cheek.

He wanted desperately for Sephiroth to be rough, to hit him, to mock him enough that he got his courage back, that he could resume the fight, but the soft touches and shared breath ruined him.

He found he hated this other Sephiroth as much as he loved the original, but the lines became blurred, his words and his gestures clashing in a way that made Cloud dizzy, that left him gasping from the strength of some strong emotion, only he couldn’t tell what it was anymore.

Sephiroth tilted his head and kissed him again, though it was longer and less chaste. Cloud let his mouth fall open, if only to let out the small sound of pain that has crawled its way up his throat. Then the moment and the memories of sharing deep kisses with Sephiroth overlapped, and he kissed back. He wasn’t sure which Sephiroth he was kissing, whether he should be laughing or screaming. When Sephiroth pulled away, Cloud followed as far as he was allowed. He was no longer sure of where he was, and there was a fog in his brain pressing down, encouraging that feeling of being lost. Sephiroth smiled at the way he prolonged the kiss, and everything felt so confusing, and he wasn’t sure if the smile was fond or smug.

Sephiroth cupped his face between his hands, kissed him one final time, and whispered against his lips, “ _Mine_.”

Cloud didn’t know much in that moment, but he knew that to be the truth.


End file.
